


White Fur

by Bricker



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, just me goofin about in the middle of the night, writing about soumako goofin about in the middle of the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bricker/pseuds/Bricker
Summary: There are certain downsides to having a werewolf for a boyfriend.





	White Fur

**Author's Note:**

> silly little thing i wrote after thinking too much about city werewolf boy makoto

There are certain downsides to having a werewolf for a boyfriend, particularly a werewolf that can change form at will.

The fur, for example. It gets fucking everywhere. In Sousuke’s closet, on the furniture, in the food. Everywhere. To add insult to injury, Makoto’s fur is also white. Wearing dark shirts is now out of the question, unless Sousuke wants to look like he just tangoed with a yeti.

Another issue is Makoto’s tendency to use his wolf form as an excuse. Sousuke has to make sure to catch him when he’s in his human form if he needs anything, otherwise Makoto will just give him a look with his big green wolf eyes that says, ‘sorry, don’t have opposable thumbs at the moment. Try again later.’ This sort of encounter happens a lot when it’s time to do laundry. Makoto swears it’s a coincidence every time. At least he has the decency to look guilty whenever Sousuke calls his bullshit. 

There’s also the whole full moon thing, which is not as light of a problem. Reminiscent of all the stories Sousuke heard about werewolves before meeting Makoto, it’s the one night of the month that Makoto has no choice but to stay in his wolf form. 

He’s dangerous those nights. Any recollection of Sousuke disappears for the next twelve or so hours, and Sousuke has no choice but to keep him in a metal kennel on their apartment building’s roof, (courtesy of their open-minded landlord,). Makoto also insists that he put a muzzle on him so he won’t howl and draw attention from the streets below. The whole process is grueling. Painful for Makoto, and hardly fun for Sousuke.

Makoto is always sore and sleepy the morning after. He never complains, but Sousuke knows it hurts him. It’s not as if he can be blamed; being locked in a kennel while trapped in the form of a feral wolf isn’t exactly comfortable. Every month he trudges back down to their apartment with a new series of self-inflicted scratches and bite-marks.

It’s painful to see, but matches the rest of him. Makoto’s body is riddled with scars from full moons he endured when he was younger. The fresh marks pale in comparison to some of the other marks he wears.

“I couldn’t tell you where they come from, even if I wanted to,” Makoto says, as Sousuke runs the pad of his finger up one of the longer scars. It runs diagonally across his pectoral, a clean cut that’s faded pink with time. “I never remember what happens during a full moon.”

“It doesn’t bother you, not knowing?” Sousuke asks. He props himself up on one arm to meet his gaze.

“Not really. I don’t like thinking about it.”

“You could’ve fought a bear. You could’ve killed an entire family of bears, and you wouldn’t even know. How fucked up is that?”

“About as fucked up as the rest of it,” Makoto gives a tired smile. “I have my suspicions about some of my scars. Where they came from, and all.”

“Which ones?”

He shifts onto his side and points to a series of parallel cuts along his ribcage. “Something scratched me here. A house cat or a racoon, I think. Some small animal that I probably ended up eating afterwards.”

Sousuke grins and touches them lightly. “Scary.”

“Can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic, so I’m choosing to ignore that. I’m thinking this one,” - he rubs along a scar on his hipbone next - “was the work of some sort of sharp edge. Like a metal pipe, or a wood shard. Something I could’ve run into and scraped myself up on.” He lifts his arm to show off his bicep. A web of disturbed tissue covers a portion of it. “I got burned here.”

“You’re clumsy as a wolf,” Sousuke decides.

“Hey, now. I was young.”

“And uncoordinated.”

Makoto wrinkles his nose with an exaggerated frown. “Give little Makoto a break. He was scared and not used to running around on all fours.”

“Alright, alright.” Sousuke lets his hand fall. It absently trails over Makoto’s shoulder and up to his jaw. He touches his thumb to Makoto’s upper lip, where a tiny scar sits beside his cupid’s bow. “This one’s my favorite.”

Makoto’s pout fades. He smiles against his finger. “Yeah?”

“It was the first thing I noticed about you.”

“Aw. I probably got it from doing something stupid, though. Like trying to eat a metal can. Or a porcupine.”

Sousuke grins. “When I first saw it, I thought maybe it was an old piercing gone wrong. Made me think you were more than what you seem at first glance. Which is true, but I hardly expected ‘more’ to mean ‘werewolf who turns into a dumbass once every month.’”

“Mm.” Makoto opens his mouth to bite Sousuke’s finger lightly. His teeth gleam in the orange light of their bedroom lamp. Right now his unnaturally sharp canines are the only indication that he’s anything but human. They’re not as sharp as Rin’s, not so exaggerated that they draw a lot of attention from anyone not looking, but sharp enough that they could probably draw blood if Makoto’s careless. And Makoto’s never careless. 

Sousuke tugs his thumb out of the grip of his teeth and lets it settle on his chin. He rubs the light stubble there absently. “What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“Your arms,” Makoto says. “‘Nice arms,’ I thought.”

“Ha. Quite the silvertongue, aren’t you.”

He hums in agreement. “And your skin.”

“What about it?”

“It’s so flawless compared to mine. Not a mark in sight. You’re like a baby.”

Sousuke narrows his eyes defiantly. “I am nothing but a man.”

“Baby man.”

“No.”

Laughing softly, Makoto scoots closer, wriggling further down the mattress so his face is flush with Sousuke’s throat. His arm drapes over Sousuke’s waist under the sheets. “Did you see the forecast? The temperature should be going up a lot this week.”

“Shit,” Sousuke grumbles. Higher temperatures mean spring. Spring means more people spending time outside. More people outside means Makoto needs to be careful when hunting birds and rabbits for Sousuke and Haruka to cook.

One of the perks of having a werewolf boyfriend is never needing to pay for your own quality meat, as long as you’re willing to do all the defeathering and skinning yourself. But it becomes extra tricky when the weather eases and the chance of Makoto being spotted goes way up.

“I’ll be more careful,” Makoto says.

“No,” Sousuke says. “You should stop hunting altogether. We’ll just switch back to chicken and beef.”

“Your parents are coming over next weekend,” Makoto protests. “Didn’t you want to make rabbit stew?”

“It’s fine. We shouldn’t risk someone seeing you and reporting a wolf infestation, like last year.”

“I’ll be careful,” Makoto repeats himself with determination.

Sousuke pulls away enough for their gazes could meet. “Makoto, please no. You could get shot.”

“I won’t. I’m fast.”

“You said that last year, too.”

“I was barely nicked, Sousuke.” Makoto meets his gaze, unfazed and smiling softly. He is not at all concerned, and that has Sousuke concerned. “Don’t worry so much, okay? I can handle myself.”

“Rabbit stew isn’t worth your life,” Sousuke insists.

“The forecast might be wrong,” Makoto barters. “You’ve been wanting to cook this for your parents for a month now, Sousuke. I’ll be alright. A blip in temperature isn’t going to change that much.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know. I swear I’ll be fast.”

Sousuke frowns. “Even if I ask you not to, you’ll hunt anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Makoto says, but his voice is small. At Sousuke’s expression he cracks a weak smile. “I just think you worry too much, and I want to give you what you want.”

“What I want is for you to be safe.”

“I will be. One rabbit is hardly a difficult catch. I’ll have it by tomorrow.”

They hold each other’s gaze as Sousuke considers it. He gives a relenting sigh and rests his chin back on Makoto’s head. “Fine. But I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like most things,” Makoto says, pleased. He untangles himself from Sousuke’s grip and rolling over to his bedside table. The covers shift as he props himself up and reaches for his phone, presumably to set an alarm. “I’ll even leave early tomorrow morning, if it helps.”

“Only tomorrow,” Sousuke says. “If you don’t catch anything then, we should just call it. Missing out on the stew won’t kill anyone.”

“Deal.” Makoto puts his phone back on the table and settles in on his back. He tilts his chin up to meet Sousuke when he bends to kiss him. “Thanks for worrying about me. You’re sweet.”

“I sort of like having you around, believe it or not,” Sousuke grumbles. “Even if you do get fur everywhere.”

Makoto winces apologetically. “I’ll do a deep cleaning before your parents come.”

“Damn right you will.”


End file.
